


What is love, Dandelion?

by Ladyblanc_RU



Series: Toss A Coin To Our Trope Jar [6]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Tags Contain Spoilers, Talking, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyblanc_RU/pseuds/Ladyblanc_RU
Summary: Something was weighing on Geralt, Dandelion could easily see that. Ever since they had left Novigrad Geralt hadn’t said a word, and they were traveling for days now. However, Dandelion knew better than to poke at the witcher’s wounds. Whatever it was, sooner or later, Geralt would talk to him. The bard just needed to be patient, that was all. And just as Dandelion predicted, one evening the silence was broken.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Toss A Coin To Our Trope Jar [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926667
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	What is love, Dandelion?

A fire was lazily licking birch logs, occasionally throwing coal or two around itself. It was a quiet evening. No sounds filled the air, aside from a soft song of a lute which Dandelion absently strummed to busy both his eyes and mind. Recently his thoughts were often stained with a worry about Geralt, who was now sitting across him and sharpened his swords. For anyone outside their small circle of friends, the witcher might've looked fine, but the bard could see that his friend was thinking hard about something. The witcher's shoulders were tense, movements more mechanic than usually, eyes too focused on his weapons. During their days of travel, Geralt had barely talked, and Dandelion still remembered how upset the witcher was in Novigrad after yet another argument with Yennefer.

He didn’t know why Geralt kept returning to her. The bard had been a witness of many interactions between the sorceress and the witcher, and he couldn’t say he understood how those both were still together. Dandelion knew about the last wish. It was his most popular ballad, after all. A story about a witcher who was bound to a beautiful sorceress by the wish, which was made to save her life. So romantic it was almost sickening. And far from the actual truth too. The truth was ugly. It smelled like lilac and gooseberries, salt of tears and too sweet passion, and was mixed with a gallon of spicy anger. No, no one would ever like to hear about this kind of love. Even a ballad about a bard helplessly in love with their friend would sell much better than a story of how a desire to save someone turned into a nightmare. A nightmare that was wrong on so many levels, it would take hours to untangle all of it at this point.

Yet, they didn’t speak about it at all. Dandelion really tried to ask some questions about his friend's relationship out of pure concern, of course. It pained the bard deeply to see how that witch wounded his witcher. He wanted to help Geralt, to try and soothe some of the pain. However, no matter what he tried, Geralt refused to talk about Yennefer at all, either changing the subject or simply telling him to shut up. It hurt Dandelion even more, though there was little he could actually do when his friend was this defensive.

Well, until this evening, at least.

“Can I ask you a question, Dandelion?” Geralt suddenly asked, lifting his head to look his friend in the eyes.

“Of course, my friend. What do you want to know?”

The witcher didn’t answer right away. Dandelion stopped strumming his lute and put it away, taking a closer look at his friend. Geralt looked tired. There were slight bags under his eyes, the hair even messier than usually. His gaze was absent, almost as if he was far away from the conversation, which he so suddenly started.

“Why do you dislike Yennefer so much? Back in Novigrad, you were interested in how she was, but I know you can’t stand each other, then why bother? If anything, you should be trying to avoid conversations about her. But you don’t. Then why show your hatred if there’s an interest in her?”

“I can assure you that my hatred to her is the purest one,” Dandelion huffed, his fingers still dancing across the strings, “You want to know why do I hate her? Fine, I will tell you. Yennefer is someone who should be avoided, and not only by me. You see, Geralt, there are certain people others tend not to talk to because of their character. Yennefer, while rightfully called beautiful beyond measure, is also arrogant in the same way. She doesn’t care about people around her and uses them as her tools to achieve whatever goal entered her mind. I also do not trust her. Forgive me for my harshness, but she is untrustworthy. I am sure you have seen it for yourself, otherwise, you wouldn’t have turned my question down. And your relationship with her is something I do not like either. That is not how people are supposed to work together.”

The witcher just smirked from his place, “You might be surprised, Dandelion, but life is not like your ballads. Things don't always happen the way you imagine them. In fact, they are usually much darker. In real life people argue with each other, stop talking for a while, and then fall together once again when their tempers got cooled enough. Life is not a sappy ballad you sell to young girls, it’s a hardship. This is just the truth of it.”

“Are you sure I am the one who does not understand things right, Geralt?” the bard asked, his tune getting faster as anger built up inside of him, “I will let you know that I have traveled far and wide and seen many people in love with each other which allows me to rightfully say that whatever you have with Yennefer is not like it should work. You are right, in reality, relationships aren’t perfect. But they are not hell either. After a fight with his wife, and it’s assuming they both love each other, any normal man would try and figure things out through common discussion, whereas you will run away from Yen as far as possible. You are just so obsessed with her that you do not understand this is not how the things should really look like.”

“Like you know something about it. Wherever we go you end up with a new partner. In a new city, a new girl is flirting with you like hundreds before her, and then there's a new window you jump out of in the morning to run away from her parents. How can you know something about love if you declare it to someone right before falling into another bed?” the witcher parried, crossing his hands on his chest.

“You don’t understand what you are talking about,” Dandelion argued, anger gone as fast as it appeared inside of him, “I am not a saint, we both know it at this point, but even I can stay loyal to someone. It is just no one would like to have me long enough to witness it. And even if I do jump out of the windows, as you so correctly pointed out, it’s after a moment of passion. I know people too well. Those who I declare love to could be found in the company of another person just after I leave them. It’s not real love. Just a mere glimpse of passion which we started to call love nowadays even if it is not. You and Yennefer are a great example of that. Just admit it, Geralt. What you feel towards her is not more than passion. A hot desire to have sex, a euphory of being someone to do things and not to command, and thirst of not knowing what she will do next swear at you or kiss like it might be the last time you both have a chance to feel each other. Otherwise, would you leave her so fast and then turn down my question?”

“Then what is love, Dandelion?” Geralt asked, his voice suddenly quieter than before. The bard could see something dark in his friend’s gaze. Something he could only identify as a deep hurt. _Yennefer did hurt you gravely, didn’t she?_ the bard thought for a moment, still looking into the witcher’s eyes. _Is that why you didn’t want to talk to me back in Novigrad? Is this why you have been so silent?_ “you are throwing this word around and telling me what passion looks like, I am now interested to hear your opinion on the matter.”

The tune died in the air. Dandelion put his lute away, not wanting to have a distraction during this part. He knew that by answering the question he might put himself into a vulnerable position that would give his ballad about a bard rather unfortunate ending he would rather try to avoid. But then he knew he couldn’t lie to Geralt either. Why would he? The bard wanted to get closer to the witcher, not drive him away by betraying his trust.

And with that, he went, “What is love? Well, I am afraid no one can really give you a clear answer to this question, Geralt, but I can give you my opinion on this matter. Will that work? Alright. You will be surprised to hear it since it is not something you would expect from a poet like me. Love is not sappy songs, as you named them, it is not about the whole idea of showing the world that you are in love. It is about trust in your partner, about being honest with each other. It is about making yourselves a better people, but still living as separate individuals not dependent on another to hold you together,” he lifted his head towards the night sky and looked at the stars, a small smile appeared on his face, “It’s not all boring as you might think. You still have arguments and downslides, but even after those you are still together and continue your adventure through this life. There’s no domination or using each other. Just mutual respect and a promise to discuss things together if that’s needed. If something is done, it is done in both ways, a simple give and take pattern. Also, wherever you are, you want to return to them just because you are comfortable with them around. You are ready to be loyal to them as long they are loyal to you. Now, do you see, Geralt, why I have problems with Yen? Do you understand why I can’t understand the reasons why you keep choosing her when all she does is hurt you in return?”

The witcher was quiet for a long moment and didn’t look at Dandelion, who now had lowered his eyes to look at his friend. A mix of emotions ran through Geralt’s face. The bard didn’t try to untangle them. He knew that wouldn’t add anything to their discussion. So, he just watcher how his friend went through a long process, thinking and drawing conclusions from his words. He didn’t fear those. Dandelion knew, that the second he started to describe the feeling he had been experiencing for far longer than was fair to Geralt, it was a point of no return. All that was left for him was patience. The same one he used before to get this conversation started or to witness Geralt’s encounters with Yennefer, during which everything inside him wanted to take the witcher away. The same one, but so different at the same time in a way that he couldn’t pinpoint. It just one of those moments where even a poet like him didn’t know an answer. But he doubted he ever needed that.

“I understand you, Dandelion,” Geralt started after a while, looking right into the bard’s blue eyes, “now I understand that you might be up to something, that, perhaps, there is something not right in my relationship with Yennefer. But what if it doesn’t feel like that? What if whatever is happening between us _feels_ right? What should I do in this situation?”

Dandelion looked deeply into Geralt’s eyes. The witcher might be a professional at keeping his face straight, but the bard knew that more often than not his eyes betrayed him. Dandelion looked closely, reading every little thing he could find there. And saw exactly what he was afraid to see there, hoped that it wasn’t that strong. He underestimated things. Made a fatal mistake.

“I don’t have an answer to your questions,” the bard admitted honestly, his gaze slowly falling to the side and then to the grass, “I can never tell you what to do in your situation. What I could do, I did. I expressed my opinion, said exactly what I thought about everything you have with her. There’s simply nothing left for me to say on that topic.”

“You don’t like her,” the witcher stated, no questioning in his voice, “but there’s still something I don’t get. No, don’t get is the wrong way to put it. I am interested in. Will you allow me to ask one last question for tonight?”

“No, Geralt. I will not.” Dandelion whispered despite the pain in his chest, perfectly knowing that he had gone too far already, wandered in an area where he had never been welcomed since the beginning but still wanted to be, to ask.

“I didn’t even ask it yet.”

“You don’t have to. I know what you want to ask Geralt,” the bard pressed his hand into the grass, enjoying slight tingling in his palm from doing so, “I know what you want to ask, what you are talking about. Unfortunately, I can’t allow you to do that.”

“But I thought you were… did I misunderstand your description?”

The bard shook his head slowly, “No, you understood it correctly.”

“Then why?”

“Because I forgot to mention one important thing about love. Something that can't be ignored at all costs.”

“Which one, Dandelion? Which?”

He chuckled. A wet laugh escaped his lips, while eyes still refused to look anywhere aside from grass. Never had Dandelion, confident and romantic bard behaved like this. Never had Geralt seen his friend be this way.

“As I said, love can take various forms, and no one can define what really should be called one. Usually, people say that as long as both of you are still floating towards each other, you are fine, even if someone says otherwise. And here’s come the missing thing,” Dandelion started carefully. His chest was tight because of what he was just about to say. His fingers stroke through the grass, brushing it carefully, trying to save himself from the inevitable. _Maybe another day, another lifetime._ He thought, trying to avoid Geralt’s questioning glance. The bard forced himself to finish, “I don’t have to agree with it for it to be right. No one has.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank yall for reading! Please, let me know what you think about this piece and whether you liked it or not. I used Grammarly to check this, and we both don't get on too well with each other. I'm very sorry if there were any mistakes.  
> Stay safe.


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